


Lonely is the Night

by goretier



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Pining, ken doll Connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 13:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15558963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goretier/pseuds/goretier
Summary: Connor usually gets busy at night while alone, on the couch. Hopefully an interesting message from CyberLife will give him the opportunity to fix that.





	Lonely is the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Connor can do some nifty things as an android, including recreating touch patterns on his own skin at will, and constructing porn videos in his mind, which is exactly what I would do if I had a computer for a brain. 
> 
> This chapter is just some sad/horny set-up for the main event, but I had that thought of Connor using his database of Hank's touches on himself in my head for a while, so. Bear with me. They'll kiss soon.

Connor’s sensitive fingers registered the heat of Hank’s body through the cotton fabric of his shirt. His breathing was regular, and calm. He could feel his heartbeat under his cheek, steady, average, assuring and pleasant.

Over the past few months, he’d come to really understand that term. Connor remembered the first time Hank had pet a hand through his hair, and the jolt it gave his system. Even now, after he’d registered that same contact one-hundred and thirty-three separate times, his processors still buzzed headily inside him. He had the capabilities to accommodate the sensations, but Connor let it be. It was just something that felt… pleasant.

They were sitting together on the couch. Hank had his feet propped up on the coffee table, and Connor was curled up beside him. He knew the exact date when they began to arrange themselves like this – it coincided with the beginning of Hank’s aversion to eye contact when Connor was walking around shirtless, but neither of them have acknowledged that yet.

He shifted in his position – a habit he’d acquired, completely unnecessary but totally satisfying – and nudged his face closer to his partner’s collar bones. Hank’s hand, gentle and warm on his bicep, squeezed just a little.

Connor’s eyelids fluttered.

“Ah, fuck…” Hank muttered at the TV. The Gears were losing, Connor distantly noted. Hank’s disapproval made his mouth twitch into a smile.

“I suggest they bench 26.” Connor offered helpfully, as if he were going to send a message to the head coach right from the couch. “His lack of concentration is visible.”

“Concentration, sure,” Hank grumbled, settling further into the couch, “Let’s see the guy develop some talent before we talk about that.”

Connor huffed out a brief, unbidden laugh into Hank’s side and hid his sudden grin there as well. It was still unnerving, even months after becoming deviant, to feel his body act without instruction. It made him uncomfortable while in public – almost like he was glitching, like there was a break in his code – but, like this, closed in and cuddled into Hank’s safe side, it was an easy thing to act without instruction.

Above him, Hank let out a groan in frustration as 26 missed another shot. A quick peek to the internet showed Connor that Hank was not alone in his opinions, and he thought maybe he’d bring it up to Hank later. Perhaps it would make him laugh.

The thought stuttered Connor’s thirium pump in his chest briefly, and his self-preservation program reflexively ran a diagnostic check to make sure nothing was amiss. It came up short, of course, finding no trigger other than his own brief mental image. The android sighed, and curled his fingers further into Hank’s shirt. It had come and gone within half a second, and it took even less to run a diagnostic, but Connor wondered if being free to feel was always going to require so much energy.

It was exhausting being deviant. Perhaps weariness is next to humanness.

“Christ, I can’t watch any more of this.” Hank sighed, throwing his gaze away from the TV. Connor felt a fond smile tug at his lips.

“Perhaps we could go to bed early tonight.” Connor supplied, sitting up from his partner’s side. He felt the urge to yawn, but fought it off and moved to lean against the opposite arm of the couch with a warm sigh.

Hank hummed beside him, and after the opposing team scored once more, he threw in the towel.

“Alright. Might as well.” He said, rising from the couch as Connor turned off the TV. As he was passing, Hank reached down and carded a hand through the android’s short hair. Connor hadn’t anticipated it. He barely had time to restrain his physical expression of delight at the sensation, and caught himself just in time.

“Goodnight, kid.” Hank said, tiptoeing by Sumo’s sleeping form on the floor in front of the entrance to his room.

“Goodnight, Hank.” Connor replied, watching the door close with his bottom lip between his teeth.

As soon as he heard Hank settle into the bed, Connor stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes. It was a simple thing to recall the feeling of Hank’s fingers. He thought about them often.

Five digits, five unique finger prints. The exact temperature, the precise pressure, even the unique motions and patterns Hank typically used when showing displays of affection. Connor could recall them all, and reconstruct their distinct feelings at will, though it never quite felt the same. There was something so unpredictable about humans. Something incalculable, indecipherable, something always undefined.

Guilt settled in Connor’s stomach, but he could rarely resist it these days, even if it never felt the same. Sometimes the disconnect was easy to overlook in the heat of the moment.

Connor pressed his knuckles into his mouth and bit down on them hard in preparation. His skin peeled back from the space his teeth dug into, and the reconstruction of Hank’s hand in his hair trailed down the back of his neck and swept around to his collar bones. His skin glowed blue in five spots, that quicksilver glint of his delicate and mechanic interface desperate to connect with a human hand the best way it knew how.

Connor held back a whine and reached down with his free hand to hike his shirt up his torso. He propped his head up on the arm of the couch and watched through heavy-lidded eyes as his artificial and torturous recreation of his partner’s right hand coasted down his front and disappeared under the waistband of his pants.

Would Hank use his nails? Pinch his nipples? Stroke his thumbs over his hipbones?

That missing piece in his fantasy – Hank’s will, his whim, his unpredictable interest – was the only thing he couldn’t account for. Though he could overlook it at the feeling of five digits dancing down his happy trail, Connor had to force himself to not think about it too much.

It wasn’t right. Even his best reconstructions couldn’t compare, for one thing; but Connor knew he couldn’t ask Hank for this himself. Moments like these were something stolen, complete with that rolling feeling of shame and guilt at the core of his arousal. If Hank knew he did this, _used_ him like this, surely, he would be disgusted.

From the other room, Connor picked up on Hank’s breathing pattern, indicating he had reached REM sleep. A bit of relief let him open up with his voice a little more, and he let out a shaky moan bite out across his fist.

Hank’s hand moved deliberately down into the space between his smooth and toned thighs. As an RK model, CyberLife had deemed human genitalia unnecessary. It wasn’t exactly ideal, but Connor hadn’t spared it a thought until recently. What would Hank say? What would he do? Would he be disgusted, find himself unwilling to continue? Or would he roll with it, and adapt, as Connor had to him?

The thought was… pleasant. Connor felt his thirium pump squeeze a little tighter.

At the first brush of digitized pressure between his legs, Connor jacked up his sense of touch and found his hips bucking into the air. In his mind, Hank was eager to feel him, and Connor had enough simulations and constructions of would-be scenarios to satisfy that thought.

In fact, Connor was just about to picture something like that when his processors bumped the image of Hank’s mouth into the front of his mind unexpectedly. Connor’s eyes flew open, and he clapped a hand over his mouth as he correctly anticipated a gasp to fall from his lips.

He had to record the press of his lips, somehow, Connor realized as he furiously set about constructing a situation to match what he had in mind. His legs were already shaking just picturing his partner’s face tucked between his thighs. He’d probably short-circuit if he got it for real, anyway. The thought made Connor whimper, so he closed his eyes, and let himself have it.

\--

Connor was in sleep mode two hours later, when an interesting update from CyberLife woke him up.

_Attention, RK800 Model. New updates are available for your model and many others to allow you to better integrate with humanity. In response to many petitions, CyberLife has created a line of human-compatible genitalia in a variety of options to fit any lifestyle._

_Should you desire, both software and hardware instillations are available, and can be installed at your earliest convenience._

_Please note: If you intend to pursue a full upgrade with both software and hardware instillations, be advised that the initial trials may be taxing. It is recommended that users first catalogue as many physical sensations relating to the upgrades as possible, to ensure a less disorienting and more seamless transition._

_Designed by Cyberlife. Built in Detroit._


End file.
